Saludemos!

One-hundred and eighty- six years ago, five Central American nations "won" their independence- from Spain. One could argue that Central America, least of all El Salvador, is really free but that's another topic for another entry to be written another night when I'm not so exhausted.

This blog is about bands.

For two months leading up to el quince (pronounced: el keen-say), meaning September 15th, school bands bang their drums, baton twirlers perfect their art and well, neighbors get angry.

Now this is a big deal. This band thing. A school with a band is a status symbol for a community, so much in fact that the first week I was in the village the school director asked me if I could get some instruments donated. I remember looking around at the students receiving class under the ceiba tree and in the breezeway thinking she was out of her mind.

Back when I used to live in Apastepeque, a small pueblo up above the Jiboa valley that is so affectionately called "Apastecuba" for its political leanings, the school band practiced a block up from my house. I loved to go watch them, fascinated. Cha Cha and I (the ugly Chihuahua Dad got me from rescue in Nor Cal) would stand for hours and watch them grunt and sweat through La Camisa Negra and Celia Cruz's La Vida es un Carnaval. It amazed me that these kids had no formal musical training, couldn't read music in fact, and yet managed to pull the whole thing off.



It got me thinking about Ellen Levy and Carol Zilli. Those of you who grew up in Niles know what I'm talking about... FAME. FAME was a fine arts education course given by volunteer moms who taught us about classical music, Monet and how to cultivate and interest and understanding for the arts. I loved FAME, and I credit the program for peaking my interest in music and art (although some might claim my admiration for reggaeton and cheap handicrafts isn't exactly art appreciation).

So what's up with these kids who barely get enough instruction to be able to read and write (notice I did not say spell...)yet pick up trumpets, drums and those stand up keyboard thingies once a year and rock it out? I'm fascinated.

Most of the Americans I know who live here are slightly irritated by el quince. They think too much money is spent on flashy outfits to be worn on only one day. They think the band is too noisy and that too much time is taken out of class to practice. They think the parade lasts a little too long and that the music isn't that good. They think the girls outfits are a little slutty and way inappropriate.

All of this is true.

But I LOVE el quince. Its a country wide patriot fest. People buy Salvadoran flags and put them on their cars. The newspapers publish big flags and folks tape them on their front doors. The national anthem is played regularly on the radio. School children have to learn the pledge of allegiance, the national flower, tree, etc and how to explain what the Salvadoran coat of arms signifies. Programs are aired about the founding fathers and the Spanish invasion. Everyone talks about el quince and Salvadoran pride abounds. The bands and parades are just icing on the cake.

Recently, I was at an event where the Salvadoran national anthem was played. According to Don Atilio from my village, the Salvadoran anthem is the longest one on the planet. Believe it, Don Atilio knows such things. He watches the news.

As the trumpets swormed during the interlude, everyone stood up a little straighter and I clasped my hands behind my back in respect (as I had been told to do previously while attending a ceremony at the US Embassy). I sung my way pretty successfully through the first two stanzas, stumbled through the third and belted out the fourth. I love the Salvadoran anthem which ends with a soulful repetition of the translation "CONSAGRATE!"

Don Misael, a health promoter I coordinate with, approached me after the anthem played and everyone was seated. "Wow, you must really love it here, you know the words to the anthem. My cousin who lives in Atlanta told me the gringos don't even know their own anthem. How did you learn ours?"

I was a little befuddled by the question and the fact that Misael knew our nation's second largest shame (behind poor voter turn out). I told him that I learned the Salvadoran national anthem because I practiced it every Monday at the school I worked in the village. I wanted to learn it.

Que lindo es tener dos patrias y amarlas dos igualitos. "How nice to have two countries and love them equally," he said.

Saturday night, 7 girlfriends and I were trapped in the central park in Antigua, Guatemala trying desperately to dodge the patriots, bands and baton twirlers en route to dinner and a dive bar. The streets that border the park on all four sides were packed with school bands playing fiercely and waving Guatemalan flags. Kids with temporary tatooes of their flag and coat of arms screeched and ran around the park. Moms and Dads full of pride snapped pictures as their daughters marched by. In the middle of the smell of street food and the banging of drums I remembered what Misael had said to me the week before.

And yes, I felt lucky to have two countries and love them both equally.